


the day with the ten pills

by babyboyxu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Mental Health Issues, Other, Pills, School, Self Harm, feelin shitty, it says shit and hell so, pls dont do what the character does, uh swears, yeah idk what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyboyxu/pseuds/babyboyxu
Summary: he just wanted to feel better, in his head, his chest. if the pain relief pills could help with physical pains, why can't it help with the horrible feelings too!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1
Collections: baby_boy xu_stories





	the day with the ten pills

The air was humid and windless, similar to most weekday mornings at school before the first lesson started. All the uniform clad students were gathered into the hall, to watch a performance from a travelling circus-esque act, the students’ prepared homemade (or for a few cases - Mac Donald’s) breakfasts layed out in front of them and ready to be enjoyed. Classes sat in a singular file, lining the entire hall; he sat somewhere in the middle but a little to the front, not here but not there. Behind him sat 4 of his friends, or in his opinion, his classmates who where kind enough to talk to him on a regular basis. In front of him, 6 of his friends- from a different clique. They had all arranged for one of them to get mac’s before school to distribute among them, he wasn’t in their online group chat so he didn’t know about it. He sat alone, although surrounded by more than 10 of his friends; he actually wanted to ask Clarise if she would be his company throughout the show, but as it turns out, she was already sat way at the back of the hall, with her likeminded comic book loving buddies, oh well. As the honorary teacher to announce the daily messages finished introducing the apparently famous uk-branded travelling performance act, he got out his hotdog bun and packet of milo from his bag, getting ready to finally eat his breakfast 2 hours after he had left the house. 

As the skit progressed; the actors on the small stage making their jokes about society and the like, the loud laughter coming form the performers being projected into the microphone had suddenly become a little too much for him to bare. His head felt all fuzzy, he visualised it as hands scraping on the inside of his skull, a noise that was too messy and overwhelming. Maybe if he made it to the toilet like he had planned in his head the second the noises got too loud, this entire story would have been different, or, maybe not. 

He dug around the front pocket of his school bag, to find the pain relief medicine he remembered stashing in there. At first, he took 2 of them, like anyone else would if they had stomach pains or the casual Thursday morning headache. But he had hoped that the medicine would somehow be effective in removing some of the anxious and uncomfortable feelings that had started to bubble up as a result of the oh-so-lovely sharp ringing laughter through the PA system; now, obviously that wasn’t how these kind of medicinal drugs were meant to be consumed, and he knew that the overwhelming dark feeling in his head and chest wouldn’t magically go away after ingesting the pills - at least not only 2 of them. Over the course of the 1 and a half hour show, he swallowed 8 of those pills he had, but he didn’t quite like the sound of that, no, he wanted it to be an even number, a whole number. Like 10, which coincidentally, is the total number of pills he had on hand, well, at least thats how many he had started with. 

as unlikely as it may have seemed, he wasn’t actually keen on overdosing on the medicine, just wanting enough to feel better, and that, in his mind, was to be achieved by finishing up his last 2 pills, to make the total number of it in his system an even ten. That thought brought him a much wanted sense of peace. The plan - if one could even call it that - was simple, finish the last 2 pills during recess. But it seems he was way too impatient for that, so he decided to finish them during the upcoming math lesson, discreetly, behind his desk, it was going to be fine - that was until he, for whatever godforsaken reason, reached out to seek comfort from his desk-mate, the class leader. In his very slightly drugged out state, he confessed to the class leader, who had kindly lended him a listening ear, that he had already eaten 8 pain relieving pills in the span of 2 hours, and that he intended to consume 2 more of the same pills within the next half an hour. And of course, the class leader, responsible as she was, asked him to hand over the remaining 2 pills for safekeeping, and he, with his undeniable problem with saying no to anyone, hesitantly agreed, with the promise that he would be able to get them back during recess to eat them then, like he had planned all along. Huh, well there went his wanted sense of peace and control, right there in his desk-mate’s pencil case, all for her to do what she pleased with it; for all he knew, she could’ve wanted to get rid of them in the nasty rubbish bin sitting outside the classroom. 

The recess bell, excellent. He excitedly, perhaps in a more vulnerable state of mind than before, went up to his leader, who had the duty as class president to lock up the classroom before everyone left for the cafeteria, and asked for pills back oh pretty please. Though it seemed that his leader wanted to hold back on the deal, suggesting that he went to get a meal for recess to hopefully start to feel better in a normal, healthy way. Well fine, but pinky promise I get it back after recess okay? The leader sighed and perhaps - mistakenly - agreed. Ah well, she didn’t end up in any trouble for it so I guess her decision in this little part of the story wasn’t all that important. 

He sat at the cafeteria table, along with his friends, the ones that got the Mac Donald’s without him earlier that day, waiting for the next bell that meant the end of recess to ring. That day really wasn’t going all that well for him huh. His usual set up for his spot at the recess table was the same as everyone else’s, a plate of rice or any other 3 dollar meal, a cup of iced beverage from the drinks stall, and the wallet of the lucky fellow that managed to squeeze into the 6 seater table occupied by the group of 7 friends. That day however, he felt a little distant, well, more than usual at least. He still had that annoying overwhelming sense of emptiness and chaos in his mind that he just couldn’t shake off. And maybe it was his class president withholding the pills from him that made him a little more sensitive than usual, whatever the reason was, it was relevant enough in his mind to induce a frustrated teardrop to trickle down his left cheek. a friend sitting across from him noticed him acting a little secluded - albeit after a few minutes but still- and asked him what was bothering him. He, the ever people-pleasing person he was, said that it was nothing and that he was fine, quick take a shot every time you said that but didn’t mean it.

The English teacher had just greeted the class, which was followed by a cacophony of students quarter-heartedly greeting her back while they settled back into their seats. in that very moment, he decided that it was prime time to ask his trusty desk-mate about his sacred pills. With a more irritable and vulnerable mindset than he had ever experienced before, he questioned the charming warrior that had been guarding his precious treasure. As it turns out, she had intended to dispose of the medicine, having deemed it a danger to her classmate’s health, pfff what a bunch of crap. Actually, what a big fat load of shit, this whole thing was not sitting right with him. not a moment too soon, in true ‘him’ fashion, he asked to be pardoned to the restroom where he would proceed to panic, cry, attempt to relieve his worries by punching the concrete wall of the restroom and go on to walk back into the classroom as if none of that had even happened. It was in times like these that he would re-evaluate the way he relieved his stresses and consoled his ’inner demons’ as the media likes to phrase it. 

He didn’t know a thing about the rules that were written on the little blackboard hanging on the front door of the councillors office, what the hell was ‘no appointment’ and ‘free timings’ supposed to mean? Either way, he held his metaphorical balls sturdily in his hands and walked into the office, knocking on the nearest door, requesting to see an available councillor. And see, he did. With a councillor named mrs.Honey, he spilled what he thought, and what he thought mrs.Honey might have thought, was word vomit, the most coherent sentence he could master having had at least 6 instances of the word ‘like’ in it. 

An old wrinkly used up sticker that was starting to fold inwards at the sides from having been on a dirty, dusty surface for far too long, oodly enough, that was exactly what he felt like, at that moment; throughout the day. Eh whatever, he was sure this was just gonna end up in his deep unconscious as just another bad day.

**Author's Note:**

> hi sry I didn't proof read this I was trying to go to sleep when I got the idea to write this and I couldn't let myself get back to sleep without finishing it so here it is. might do a follow up story to this maybe.
> 
> anyways, I hope you have a nice day, nice week, ahead. 
> 
> also ps, don't do what the character did, it doesn't make any logical sense and also doesn't work lol <3


End file.
